


Rosehip-Chamomile

by carlyraejepsen



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fingering, Fluff, Whats Better Than This... Friends Bein Pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carlyraejepsen/pseuds/carlyraejepsen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lazy night in with the husband for her birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosehip-Chamomile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ray "hoetori" matsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ray+%22hoetori%22+matsuno).



It's a calm evening in for the both of them, a dusty orange sky through the window, the weak crescent moon just beginning to show.  She briefly forgets how they were meant to spend their time in the first place as he kisses her neck again— something to celebrate her birthday, wasn't it? They were aiming to simply drink together tonight. Tea. _Yes_ , that was it, Corrin remembers, it was a Nohrian tea ceremony, she had asked Jakob for tips on tea-brewing and set out the cups herself and everything. She didn’t want it to be some big celebration; a lazy night in with her husband was exactly what she needed.  
  
But tea had somehow led to kissing— as things often did with him nowadays— and the talking and the kissing and the stripping had just led up to whatever kind of Heaven they're in now. She leans her head back against Silas's broad chest, loosing another quiet gasp as he touches her, careful and measured. He chuckles, "You're so _cute_ ," and adds another kiss to the point of her ear.  
  
The tea's likely gone cold by now. Probably.  
  
"Corrin," Silas brings his head up and lays his chin on the crown of her head, looking her over, his fingertips circling her clit all slow, _too_ slow, he's always too cautious when they're like this. "I love how _strong_ you are. Hey, flex for a second?"  
  
Corrin purses her lip and considers it— she tenses up in her stomach and her arms, toned and scarred from long days of fighting and training. He curses under his breath and she _loves_ it, loves how he gently draws his hand up taut muscle, fascinated with her. ".. You could probably beat the living daylights out of me, couldn't you?"  
  
"Yeah," she breathes, relaxing her arms, smiling because she actually _has_ , back at Fort Jinya.  
  
He sighs in admiration. "That's... so arousing."  
  
Corrin snorts, "I hate that word."  
  
"What? Arouse?"  
  
"Gah, stop _saying_ it like that,” she flinches exaggeratedly, in love with the fact that they can have little moments like this when they’re all alone.  
  
"Why?" He traces shapes on her stomach amusedly and, in a mockingly deep tone, "Are you not.... _aroused_ right now?"

"Stoppit," She laughs, and his chuckle rolls loud in his chest, warm and gentle and endearing as anything could ever be, something so captivating about being all laid bare for each other . She looks up at him, just wants to see his face. It’s possibly the least flattering angle of all time. “I can look up your nose,” she tells him.

 He laughs harder, abashedly turning his head. “Look somewhere else.”

 “Where else do I _look_?”

 Silas covers both her eyes with a warm hand, and they’re almost laughing too hard to stay still. “Don’t look, then! Just— let me do this for you, alright?”

 “Mmhm,” she nods, excitedly pulling his hand off of her eyes to see that he’s leant down to her side, his face just an inch from hers. He’s smiling all gentle— she smells his rosehip-chamomile breath, eyes like endless fields. “Hi.”

 “Hi,” he muses back, kissing her again, slow and powerful. His hand drifts back to where it was, pressing his middle finger flat against her, drawing his wrist up and down in a successful attempt to make her gasp again.

 And he doesn't even stop, just gets gradually quicker, building up over long minutes of kisses, over her lips and her cheeks and forehead. Then, he leans back up, his chin on her head once more. “Is this good?”

 “Really good,” she breathes, parting her legs a little more for it— he momentarily slips it in her, all to the knuckle, it makes her knees buck forward— then it pulls back out and he keeps with the same motion, leaving her face hotter. “Good, this is, uh, really. Oh, _wow_.” She chuckles, unable to hide how much she’s enjoying herself.

 “Perfect.” He kisses her hair, and— and his other hand moves to her chest, knows he doesn't need to ask for permission like he used to anymore. “You’re so beautiful, I wanna, I wanna _spoil_ you,” he holds her tight, “you deserve to be spoiled rotten. My princess.”

  _Princess_ . He only calls her that when he’s really into it, so— oh, she can feel how hard he is against her back, that’s, _oh_ , gods.

 His hand quickens and she groans lowly, shutting her eyes tight. He kisses her ears again, it’s so wonderful, it’s so _much_ and she feels her thighs tense up and she has the impulse to shut her knees but she never wants to do that, it’s so good, so hot and she’s so wet and it’s so _good—_

 Silas whispers her name again and that's all it takes, she wheezes, she pushes all the air out through her teeth and she falls apart. Her hips rise involuntarily as she comes, shaking and soft. All she can think about is him, only him, he keeps at it faster and faster until it passes and she falls onto him again, nodding at him from below and trying to catch her breath again.

 “.. Okay, good timing,” says her best friend, “‘cause my hand was starting to cramp up _really_ bad.”

 And Corrin just laughs breathlessly, achingly turns herself around so she can kiss him for real, runs her fingers through his messy grey hair and delights in every part of his presence. She loves him so much. It should be _impossible_ to love someone this much. “What next?” She asks excitedly, hasn't even recovered but decides that she needs him again.

 Silas grins all cute, so cute like he always is. “Anything. It’s still your birthday, isn’t it?” And he leans in closer, “Do whatever you want to me. I’m yours for whatever you please, my, my _princess_.”

 Corrin glances over to the forgotten tea set. She has the feeling that tonight will be much, _much_ more fun than she’d anticipated.


End file.
